


COUNTDOWN

by last_angel



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Possible violence, battle royal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-19 09:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/last_angel/pseuds/last_angel
Summary: Unnecessary work is....troublesome.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to write and publish the same day, ish my style. My computer is also old and senile and cannot type because half the keys do not work properly anymore so if there are any mistakes I do apologize I hope you can overlook them.
> 
> ^v^ Hope you enjoy!

_Bam!_ There was a click, the metal lockers clunk and swayed slightly with every heavy-handed slam. The room was filled with the sound of rustling clothes, chunky heels, sniffling and indifferent _goodbye_ ’s and _see you later_ ’s. Killua replied to each with the same apathetic nod or a barely audible ‘ _yeah_ ’. By the end, when most of the bodies had left, he didn’t even bother to answer, everyone too tired and hungry to care. The main lights turned off signaling the official end of the work day. Killua was the last one still in the locker room taking his sweet, worthless time. He put on his long navy blue coat and wrapped his scarf twice around his neck and face, nuzzling into the musky warmth of it. It smelled of cheap softener and air freshener but it wasn’t a bad smell. Double-checking his bag and the room one more time to make sure he was not forgetting anything, and satisfied that he had not, he closed the lock on his locker –the one with the slightly crooked door- and locked up the room after himself. He took a quick glance at his phone, the screen shattered thanks to his stupid coworkers roughhousing earlier in the day, the small screen reading 5:15 p.m.

 

       Razor, the night guard, turned his head just enough to see Killua placing the keys on the counter of the front desk. Killua bowed slightly and Razor in turn gave him a firm nod and turned back to look at the monitors that were linked to the security cameras located in front of the building. The front desk was only a few feet away from the front door, which was a giant glass wall, like almost all fancy places have, there was a small lobby between the first entrance door and main door- also glass doors but these were thicker and bullet proof. You could pretty much look out the front wall and see anyone walking in or passing by but Razor never faced the front, even when someone did walk in, though in the daytime there was a receptionist, Cocco, so there was no need for him to as she would attend to guests. Still Killua always found it odd. He’d heard others say it was because Razor’s main job was night duty but even then he never moved from the same spot. Weren’t the night guards supposed to guard and check the entire building? And wasn’t it dangerous to give your back to a point of entry? What if someone walked in and started shooting or stabbing people? There wasn’t much security once you actually walked into the building, at least from what Killua could tell. Regardless Killua didn’t care enough to ask. In the two years that he’d worked there he’d never spoken to the man or even heard his voice, though Cocco had mentioned he could be quite a chatterbox.

Killua couldn't imagine it.

 

       Killua stared out the said giant, glass entrance unamused, watching the grey clouds drifting lazily across the sky. It was not raining but as he got closer to the door he could already feel the cool air even before stepping outside. He took out his silver, limited edition, wireless headphones and put them comfortably over his ears. Pulling his scarf higher up to his nose and pressing play on his phone his ears were filled with the soothing sound of a violin accompanied by a piano. He walked the streets of the eerily still, grey city, sticking mostly to the main roads where there were little cars for a Friday and even less people...again for a Friday. He kept his eyes low but ahead ignoring the strangers passing by and the storeowners trying to lure people into their shops promising good times and cheap prices. There was the annoying sound of sirens somewhere in the distance and as Killua rounded the corner he could see the red and blue lights that followed speeding farther in the distance.

 

       He grimaced watching the lights fade away towards the relatively safest route home. It’d be a nuisance if the road ended up being blocked or if something went down. Once down that road it pretty much became one way and even though he was walking it was hard to get out of there should anything happen. Not wanting to bother with the possible inconvenience Killua opted to take an alternate route and turned into a narrow road sinking into the back alleys.

 

       He really rather not take these sort of routs when walking but in essence it was the fastest way home. Despite being cloudy it was not dark yet and he still had a good hour before the sun went down enough to make him worry. Killua continued on his merry way, breathing in the humidity, his pale skin covered in a thin layer of moisture. He soundlessly mumbled Beethoven’s 5th symphony, swaying his head from side to side when a sudden crash startled him. He heard two more crashes, like someone was being violently slammed against a giant metal tin can (some restaurant’s trash dump probably). Out of mild curiosity he got slightly closer to the sound peeking around the corner to see if he could see what was going on. He saw nothing, the ordeal probably a little deeper into the suspiciously dark alley, and took a step back deciding it was not worth it when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow jumping onto the rooftops, it stood there for a few seconds. Killua froze, holding his breath. It was a few ways away but the person was clearly scanning the area, turning a full 180 degrees... slowly. It remained still a few more heartbeats, Killua dreading that it may be staring his way; he couldn’t tell, they were too far away and the dreary day didn’t allow for very good lighting. However, after what felt like an eternity the person turned towards the main road and disappeared.

 

       Letting out a shaky breath Killua stared at the spot where that thing had been, his body tense, hairs on end and heart beating like crazy. The climax of the symphony blared in his ears making the situation inappropriately funny. Glassy, blue eyes fell towards the direction where the shadow had jumped from. He took a hesitant step towards the dark alley, and then another, slowly making his way towards the location where the apparent struggle had taken place. He could see what was left of the poor violently dented dump, the source of the crashes. Cautiously Killua scanned the area, his nostrils assaulted by the disgustingly distinct metallic smell, before making his way to what looked to be the losing party. A mangled body lay in the middle of the street surrounded by a pool of blood. There were some bullet holes in the wall, though Killua hadn’t heard those, but he spotted the source under some wooden boxes, the black gun totally destroyed. Rather impessive, Killua thought. 

 

 

       He slid his headphones onto this neck, standing over the corpse of the unknown stranger staring into the pulpy, bulged in blackness that should have been the head. Cold, fat raindrops fell in a slow drizzle, damping Killua’s snowy locks, flattening them against his head. The dead silence was flooded by the sudden downpour as the sun finally set behind the run down buildings. The muddy concrete darkened with murky water and blood washing away debris. Killua patted down the body searching for valuables. He took a few hundred dollars from an old leather wallet, the silver rings and gold watch he left; they were too gaudy and would just bring unnecessary trouble. He could sell them in the black market and they were obviously of very high quality but again...unnecessary trouble and attention.

 

       The sky was now pitch black and the nearest street lamp’s light barely reached enough for Killua to see a few feet in front of him. He made sure to clean his hands, the rain taking care of washing away any of his fingerprints, not like there would be any sort of investigation, not in a place like this.

 

       Killua shook he head doing little to dry himself considering he was now completely drenched, flowing streams rolling down his body. He pushed his bangs back, raindrops hanging from his lashes, and walked over the body towards the main road being only five minutes away from his apartment. A small red light caught his eye. It shone pale and blurred under the pour of rain. The cell phone was sturdy, though a bit banged up, and a little thicker than a regular one but it looked sleek though not very expensive. It was petty much a perfect replacement for his broken phone but not too eye catching to raise suspicion. He looked it over, curious about the small print across the screen flashing **_D-E-A-D_**. He thought it might have meant the battery was low but it was too ominous and obviously not turning off.

 

       There was a small mechanical whirl. Killua brought it up to his ear hearing the trinket clicking. He flinched feeling a sharp stab into the tips of his fingers, the edges of the cellular digging into his flesh. He grunted in pain releasing the dreaded machine in mild horror but the damn thing remained stuck to his hand. He shook his hand violently feeling his blood being drawn and he tried ripping the thing off but it only seemed to dig deeper. It must have only been three or four seconds but by the time Killua managed to take the damn thing off it was already retracting its sharp needle like weaponry. Killua cursed under his breath, glaring at the small screen watching the letters scroll rapidly through every letter of the alphabet stopping on one letter from left to right until it spelled _**L-I-V-E**_.

 

       The screen turned a bright green before unlocking. A headshot and a wall of text filled the screen. “ _Congratulations_ ,” spoke a robotic voice, “ _you have been chosen to participate in the 5 th Annual Countdown Tournament_”. It was broken and emotionless but sophisticated and unlike any voice-activated device he’d ever seen. Familiar statistics flashed across the screen. His same vibrant blue eyes staring back at him but with shorter hair, bangs cut just above his eyebrows. It was his stupid high school picture. Killua grit his teeth, annoyed and utterly pissed. He’d stepped on a landmine.

 

Total **. Unnecessary. _Trouble_.**

 

 **Name:** _Killua Zoldyck_

 **Age:** _24_

 **Occupation:** _Dealer_

 **Location:** _Republic of East Gorteau_

 **Contestant Number:** _20_

 

 _“More information on the event will be delivered to your email. Please be sure to read the instructions carefully and follow the rules otherwise you will be penalized. Your participation beings...now!_ ” The voice declared.

 

       All of his personal information disappeared and was replaced with a picture of a white beach chair under a palm tree facing the waves. Killua recognized the familiar apps and particular placement of them. He tapped the contacts icon and felt his stomach drop as once again he read through all the recognizable names. Everything was identical, down to the last purposeful misspelling of Illumi’s name as Izumi (just out of spite). Behind him the nearest streetlamp, the little source of light, flickered three times before going out leaving him in total darkness.

 

“Shit.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. II

A pale light seeped through a pair of thick, black curtains, specs of dust fell slow and lazy, like snow, and landed on pale lashes. Killua scrunched his eyes and rubbed the itch off his nose trying his best to ignore the growing sound of chaos that arose every morning behind his steal barred window. He pulled the heavy fur-like blanket tighter around his body, curling into himself and snuggling closer to his flat pillow. The sound of motors, engines, steel, footsteps, chatter and barking grew louder and really he was awake. Killua had been awake for about an hour already but was too comfortable in his dark, mess of a room to care about the world outside and he’d succeeded so far in ignoring it.

 

Somewhere in the near distance there was a ding, a small red light shone for a few seconds before going dark again. The phone vibrated against the small wooden table alerting of a message. After a few seconds it dinged again, then again and again until it became more persistent, the vibrations against the table causing an annoying buzzing that irritated the resting boy enough to throw off his covers and stomp over to the small device with a burning glare in his eyes.

 

Twelve new emails.

 

Killua stared at the small screen with bleary eyes, his white hair sticking out every which way; his left cheek was slightly red and stamped with wrinkled imprints of his pillow. He unlocked the device and skimmed through the messages, the tips of his fingers adorned with small, black dots where the hacked cellphone from hell had punctured him.

 

The first email was a generic welcome and congratulations for being selected in the stupid tournament message. Second and third email had general information about the cellphone, or whichever device the unfortunate participant may have acquired to get sucked into this mess. It included a list of possible objects that had been or could be “ _Tracers_ ”, highly advanced machines with tracking and monitoring technology disguised as everyday items to keep participants under surveillance both to insure their status of “participation” and to penalize any who broke any of the rules. Killua’s cell phone had all the functions of a regular phone but had the added bonus of possibly exploding, poisoning, electrocuting or perforating him should he show even the slightest indication of disobeying. It would also keep track of his killings and ranking within the surviving participant.

 

As for the, oh so important, rules they were covered in emails four and five with typical threats, a self-important promotion of the group of elites who ran the game and examples of possible consequences should any rules be broken. Killua didn’t care much about them having his information. His identity wasn’t a secret and from what he recalled, all the data he’d seen the night before was from his high school years, which was practically public information for anyone with even the slightest hacking abilities. All but his occupation could be outdated and even his job location could be found rather easily through the city’s employer network’s database. In short, there was nothing to be afraid of, at least not in regards to them having any dirt on him. What could pose as a problem though, would be forfeiting while trying to avoid the penalty. It was clear from the footage the bastard elites had so kindly provided that tricking their Tracers would be no simple matter.

 

The rules were simple:

 

  * _Do not speak about or try to expose any details bout the tournament in any form_
  * _Do not go to the authorities_
  * _No teams or outside assistance allowed_
  * _No attempting to destroy the Tracers_
  * _No self execution permitted_



 

Other things to keep in mind:

 

  * _There will always only be **one** winner_
  * _Only way to exit the game is through victory or death_
  * _You must kill at least one other player within two days of participation or new contestant will be found as replacement_
  * _Replacements or new players may enter game at any time_
  * _There will not be more than twenty players at once_
  * _Winner will be granted on wish_



 

There were three examples of possible punishments. The first was a slender woman with short pink hair and small beady eyes who could be seen pacing back and forth in front of a car shop. Killua recognized the place, it was about fifteen minutes from his apartment and just two blocks away from a police station. The woman wore a tight pink dress and a cropped yellow jacket with a long, blue bead and iron necklace sitting on top of it. It looked out of place and much too expensive for the way she was dressed. The video was a little grainy and was shot from a distance, it looked like it was from a street camera, but it was clear the woman was distressed. Her hair was disheveled from her constantly running her hands through it and gripping at it as she paced back and forth. When she lifted her face it looked like she was crying. She wiped the tears with her sleeve and with a determined looked headed east to the police station. Before she could get anywhere near spotting distance of the building the necklace came alive, the iron-work digging into her chest. She visibly struggled to remove it and when it looked like she was succeeding the dangling necklace became a much too small a chocker and severed her head.

 

Second video was a tall, scrawny guy with untamed hair sawing off his right arm, a silver watch wrapped around his wrist. This video was clearer and closer. Killua couldn’t tell how it had been recorded but the agony in the man’s face was obvious and almost painful to watch. Once he succeeded in severing his arm the watch grew what appeared to be eight metallic legs that released the bleeding limb then jumped on the man’s face and exploded on impact.

 

Last video was simply a bloodied body tangled in some phone lines. Killua remembered overhearing about this one from a client at work. It had been ruled a suicide due to lack of evidence and leads but no one believed that. The body had been too beaten and sliced to be self inflicted and even if the person had managed to withstand the pain they’d have been in no condition to climb up to the top of the phone lines and strangle themselves.

 

The rest of the emails were either spam or job related so he ignored those.

 

Killua chewed on his bottom lip. This really was going to be a hassle. He threw the phone on the bed and proceeded to undress himself as he made his way to his tiny, boxed in shower.

 

For now he only had to worry about one thing, kill a participant within two days to avoid forceful elimination. He knew not how to find or identify any of the other participants, nor did the emails give any input as to how large the playing field was or if there were any qualifications or special traits that could signal a potential player. Judging by his own experience he thought it was mostly random but because the Tracer had ran his information before confirming his participation Killua wondered if there was something they were looking for.

 

Killua stepped into the freezing water and stood under the stabbing stream until his body became accustomed to the cold. There was no point getting too worked up about it right now. It was still only 7:00 in the morning and he’d not yet had breakfast. On his bed his phone lit up with an update.

 

_Current active participants: 14/20_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm so behind on the challenge. I had to post something so this chapter is pretty rushed and crappy and I'm suuuuper sleepy. Might fix it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I've come up with another AU. I came up with this story while walking my dog on a cloudy day and just had the urge to write it. My friend and I are trying to complete a challenge. We want to try and publish one piece of writing every month. We started late so this is technically my "January" quota but really it's just a self-indulgent little project so I'm not sure if I'll really continue it (though I do have ideas for the next part) but nonetheless I hope you liked it. 
> 
> As always thank you to everyone who takes the time to read.


End file.
